


Hello and Holly

by TinyPineTrees



Series: A/B/O one shots [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alpha Alfie, First Meeting, M/M, Omega Tommy, Scents, They’re awkward and I love them, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-31 00:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyPineTrees/pseuds/TinyPineTrees
Summary: After Alfie and Tommy first meet and negotiate, Alfie scents something sweet on Tommy, but can’t pin it down.





	Hello and Holly

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the lovely Muse, who is celebrating some lovely things this weekend! Congrats lovely!! ❤️ Thank you weeo for beta-ing for me as well, you’re help is vital and I’m beyond grateful! ❤️

-Alfie-

  
  


Alfie circled around a birch tree, subtly inhaling a few times as he passed it, taking in the light, wooded scent. 

A low groan croaked from his chest as he shook his head. Not sweet enough. 

It had been two weeks since Tommy Shelby had strolled through his office door. Well, strolled was kind. He’d limped in, pained and sore with black eyes and a bloody nose, reeking of some medicinal potion Alfie was positive was more rotten than medicinal. 

Acrid and burnt. It was pungent, and covered up any natural scent the man may have had. ‘The black stuff’ Tommy had called it as he apologized for the smell. ‘The black stuff.’ 

Alfie could be bleeding from every hole in his body, and still refuse to use that shit on account of stench alone. 

He clicked his tongue as he passed over patches of roses and violets. Tommy’s scent felt floral, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t a flower. 

It was something close to floral though. Floral, and sweet. 

He hadn’t even noticed it until they’d gone to shake hands, having spent the better part of their meeting trying to avoid breathing in ‘The black stuff’. 

Tommy had handled it politely, nodding sympathetically as Alfie choked and gagged around the odor. It was pungent all the way from his desk and to the door, through their mild threats and oddly friendly banter. 

Then Alfie scented it.

The faintest hint of something sweet. Fresh and bright. He’d inhaled on instinct. Savoring whatever it was, deep in his lungs. How something so slight could be so strong, powerful enough to fight against the blood dripping from Tommy’s nose, the horrible black stuff looming around him, even the dank stench of London. 

Alfie leaned in, smelling an evergreen as he stepped further into the park. It wasn’t pine. Pine was a distinctly alpha smell. 

He still wasn’t sure if Tommy was actually a beta. Doubt had begun creeping in the more he searched. His scent had been very faint. It could’ve been his natural scent for all Alfie knew. Mildly sweet and indistinct.

But if he was an omega-

How often did omegas head their families though, eh? Not fucking often. 

He clicked his tongue again, arguing lowly to himself as he stepped up the path. Furthermore, how often did an unaccompanied omega leave their family’s house to weave dangerous plots with murderous gangsters?

His scent was sweet though. So fucking sweet. 

When he’d leaned in to shake Tommy’s hand, he’d stepped closer, scenting whatever may lay beneath the black stuff. His intrigue growing quickly as Tommy’s eyes glazed, and he shuddered. 

Alfie crunched past another evergreen, tapping at its thick trunk with his cane. 

Unmated omegas could react strongly around some alpha scents, and Alfie’s was a particularly heavy one. 

Although he’d never imagined his smoky bonfire scent as very appealing. If it had been a touch less ashy, maybe? If he had been a bit less mad, or just more calming, maybe he’d be mated by now, ashen scent or not. 

He understood though, a strong, burning, fiery scent, coupled with scaly, red patches on his face and madness in his eyes-

Who would want that?! His hands swung out frustratedly as he argued silently with the trees. He was about as handsome as a fucking dragon, and he was pining after the fucking princess in the tower. He was beautiful though. 

When they’d shook hands, Tommy’s pretty lips had parted, and a tiny puff of air escaped, brushing near Alfie’s chin. 

He’d been unable to tamp down the low rumble in his chest as his fiery scent spread out, rising to display itself. 

Tommy’s eyes glazed, half lidded, as his cheeks flushed and he breathed in slowly. His shoulders dropping backwards as the worry lines in his forehead eased. And then Alfie could smell it. That fucking scent. 

His heart had begun pounding, and a fierce burning ignited in his stomach as Tommy inched closer, his eyes wide as his nose twitched, and he gently scented Alfie. 

It was fucking biblical. 

Eyes like fucking stars, big enough to fall into. A sharp suit pressed close around his surprisingly small waist. A waist that Alfie’s hands would fit perfectly around. 

The leaves rustled as his hand shook around his cane, and that burning built in his stomach again, threatening to sink lower. He should call off all meetings with Tommy. 

He doubted Tommy’d appreciate his interest, especially given their ongoing deal. He might think Alfie wanted him suck his cock for a higher percent of the racetrack, or more territory in London. 

Small white flowers dotted the low bush, brightening the thick greenery. He’d learned more about flowers in the last few weeks than in his whole life. Florists up and down London had been trying their best, rattling off names he’d never remember, boredom growing in their eyes as each plant they presented was incorrect. They were all too floral to be Tommy. He was something sweet, and definitely something Alfie had smelled before, but this was the eighth park he’d been to in as many days with no luck. 

He flinched, catching a raindrop on his nose and looking up as it began lightly drizzling around him. This would likely turn into another unsuccessful day of searching if the rain grew too strong. 

He should stop searching and stop meeting with Tommy. Although that meant he had to meet with Tommy’s horrendous brother, Arthur if he still wanted to do business.

Arthur had been sent in place of Tommy twice after their first meeting. 

His oppressive petrichor had clashed horribly with Alfie’s bonfire, and he’d only needed ten minutes with the man to know he hated him. He’d broken two of his glasses, both accidentally, and carved a scar into one of Alfie’s nice wooden tables when he’d suggested the Shelby’s take a 40% cut. It descended from there. 

Tommy sending his brother could mean he was just healing slowly, and the boat ride down was hell on all those broken bones. Or it could mean Alfie had sent him fleeing with that unnecessary, and frankly embarrassing display of his scent. 

Alfie could always just go to him though. 

He could make an appointment, make it all official-like. Speak to that receptionist of his, Liza? Lizzie? Make it all nice and neat, very professional. Or would that be too obvious? Alfie held the stronger position in their business, he shouldn’t go to Tommy unless he had a good reason. 

He paused before a row of tall evergreens, glaring as the rain began thickening with a vengeance, destroying the natural scent of the woods. 

Spinning on his heel, he grumbled as he made his way back to the car. Scorned flowers sneered at him as he passed them by, somehow expressing their disappointment in him, as though he chose for them to be the wrong scent. 

Typical, that Alfie would fall for someone with a scent he couldn’t guess. 

Stumbling over a thick root, he nearly fell, catching himself at the last minute as his cane pierced through a sharp looking rose bush. 

“Fuck,” He jerked backwards, trying to pull the stick out. 

Bonfire burned angrily as his annoyance grew, and sharp thorns began cutting into his arms when the cane refused to budge. 

“I swear to god, alright, fucking god.” He mumbled. His croaking voice building in volume as he dug deeper into the bush. A sour grimace spread across his face when his jacket snagged on the thorns. “I will come back here with fucking fire and burn this whole fucking-”

He froze, peering down through the hole he’d finally managed to break open. 

Little blue flowers, the same color blue as Tommy’s eyes, peeked up at him. Tiny, and pristine, hidden well beneath the sharp, angry roses. 

On a whim he reached in, pulling a few of the little flowers free before tugging his coat carefully away from the thorns. The little flowers disappeared from view again as he escaped and the roses clustered back together, dark red, and dappled by the building rain.

He should just nip this in the bud. Get Tommy Shelby and his mysterious scent out of his mind and deal strictly with his awful brother. There was another brother he hadn’t met yet too, wasn’t there? Maybe he would be better than Arthur? He couldn’t be much worse. 

Stowing the little flowers in his pocket, he hiked back to his car, tucking his hat low as the rain fell around him. 

He could forget Tommy and his mysterious scent. How hard could it be? 

  
  


—

  
  


“So, a 15% starter then,” Jameson said, flipping a coin through his fingers. His faint grassy scent dipped below the rum, fading indistinctly. “And then we’ll renegotiate for the agreed 30% after six months of our good faith.” 

“Right, well.” Alfie scratched at his eye, as he tried to follow where the conversation had gone since he’s last listened. 

Jameson had said something about protection, he was fairly certain of that. His mustache twitched as he spoke and his nerves melted into confidence when he pitched his plan. His muddy brown eyes bright and quick as he negotiated. 

“Well?” Jameson asked, leaning forward. “Well what Solomons, it’s a fucking-”

“Nah, mate. You’re too quick to jump.” Alfie waved his hand at him, unable to really throw himself into the argument. 

The little blue flowers had faded since he’d picked them, dying slowly in a chipped whiskey glass. 

Ollie had given him a concerned look when he’d put the glass on his desk and gently began moving it left and right until it looked like it had always belonged. Maybe he thought he’d finally cracked, or wondered if this was a new negotiation tactic. 

He’d spent the last week focusing on business, chasing Ollie around, refining a new recipe he’d been working on for months, even set up a meeting with Darby to discuss even more protection losses at local racetracks. 

“Solomons,” Jameson whined, his fingers tapping anxiously as he waited in his chair. “I need an answer.” 

“Yeah,” Alfie muttered, leaning forward and trying to nudge the little flowers into standing upright again. “Its a fucking no, now isn’t it. ‘Cause, well, two reasons really,” He pulled his hand away from the flowers, holding up two fingers. “One, ‘cause your offering me less protection, for more money than your competitor-”

“Now wait, who said I was competing-”

“And two, two mate, is ‘cause I don’t like your face.” Alfie finished, brushing a hand through his beard.

“Just,” Jameson started, his hands held outwards. “How can I compete, if I don’t know all the players Alfie,” He nodded, eyes glancing suspiciously at the flowers as Alfie’s fingers danced over them again. “Seems only fair to let me know them and their offer.” 

The flowers were drooping so low now. He thought they’d live longer than a week. 

“Solomons-”

“Yeah, fucking heard you. The Shelby’s in Birmingham are offering more men, for less-”

“You’re gonna put the safety of your bookies in the hands of Gypsies?” Jameson launched forward, throwing himself from his chair and pushing close in front of Alfie. His light grassy scent barely whispering below his nose. “Gypsies!? They done in Billy Kimber, or have you forgotten?”

“Money, Jameson, is what I fucking care about.” Alfie leaned away. 

“Money.” Jameson snorted, his voice dying out as his eyes slid sideways again, eyeing the little blue flowers once more. “If it was money, 15% wouldn’t even be a question.” 

He reached over, plucking one of the flowers from the glass and twisting it as he brought it to his nose. 

“These are forget-me-nots, aren't they?” Jameson asked, dropping the flower on the desk with raised eyebrows. 

Alfie blinked at the little flowers, repeating their name in his head as Jameson looked expectantly at him. ‘Forget-me-nots’. Of course they were. Any attempt at putting Tommy out of his head has been doomed from the start. 

“The Shelby’s have an omega, don’t they? A pretty one I heard.” 

“If you’re interested, he can be reached in Birmingham.” Alfie said as Jameson stared. “I, again, am more interested in the money. And they’re willing to do it for 10% of the take.” 

“Cause they’re fucking Gypsies Alfie!” Jameson shouted, slamming his hands down onto the table. “They don’t understand business, they sell fucking pegs! They’ll disappear the second shit goes south! My men at least know how to fight!” He breathed heavily, his faint scent building for a moment. “And I’d like a fair crack at the job! You think they don’t throw that pretty thing at everyone they deal with! You think they haven’t planned on you thinking with your cock, and saying yes, so they can turn around and cut you like they did with Billy Kimber?!” 

Alfie stared, a fierce annoyance burning quickly through him at Jameson’s quick observations. He hadn’t given Tommy and his previous alliances tremendous thought, but they had killed Billy Kimber after planning roughly the same deal he’d arranged with Alfie. 

He had a reason to visit now though. Doubly so if Tommy was planning a betrayal. 

“You ever been to Timbuktu?” Alfie asked, bonfire smoking through the room as he pulled his gun slowly from his drawer. 

Jameson threw his hands in the air, shaking his head and breathing deeply as he took a step back. 

“Just an observation Mr. Solomons, nothing to get up in arms about.” 

“You sure?” Alfie asked, leaning forward again as he pointed the gun. “You seem sure,” He nodded, gesturing with the gun. “Where’s your information coming from then, your proof, that Tommy Shelby and his gypsy gang are going to fucking cut me?” 

Jameson shook his head again, lowering his hands slowly. 

“Fucking nothing?” Alfie asked as he dropped the gun back into the drawer. “Alright then, get the fuck out.” 

Jameson twisted on his heel and threw his coat on, stealing through his office door far quicker than he’d entered. 

Reaching over, he plucked the little forget-me-not off his desk and gently set it back into the whiskey glass. 

He’d never been excited to go to Birmingham before. 

  
  


-Tommy-

  
  


“Alfie Solomons is here.” 

Tommy stared at his office door as Lizzie slid it shut, his heart pounding as week's worth of repressed memories swung to the forefront of his mind. 

Alfie Solomons’ large hand, gently grasping his own. Warm bonfire sailing around his ears, stealing through his thoughts and weakening his already shaky legs. That horribly telling slick feeling running down his backside as Alfie spoke and crept closer, scenting the air. He’d practically melted into him. 

His hands wound into his hair, tugging it low and trying to cover his eyes. 

It was fucking embarrassing. Holly had been blooming like fucking Christmas. It was just a scent! One scent! 

One warm, safe and heavy scent. He shouldn't be so affected, but he’d just lost it. In a way he’d never lost it around an alpha before. 

Alfie smelled like home. 

He smelled like his mother’s wagon, when they used to play when they were small. Before life happened. He’d smelled like caravans, ringed around a bonfire. 

Tommy’d had to escape fast, he’d already been broken, and bruised, hardly intimidating to someone like Alfie. Then to have that scent around him, Alfie must think he’s ridiculous. One more ridiculous flighty omega. 

He’d agreed to Tommy’s deal though. They’d shaken hands on it, though Tommy couldn’t really remember, he’d stumbled away, desperate to escape before he said or did something even more regrettable. 

“I don’t think your secretary likes me.” Alfie said, stepping neatly through his door. Bonfire smoked through the room in seconds, slowing his racing heart instantly.

Tommy shoved a hand below his nose, desperately trying to beat out the scent with his own as he scrambled for a cigarette, determined not to let Alfie get to him this time. 

“Didn’t offer to get me tea or anything,” Alfie said, jerking his cane in the air, punctuating his sentence. 

“We don’t have tea.” Tommy coughed as his mouth went dry and his fingers struggled to light his cigarette. 

“Should really think about getting some tea.” Alfie seated himself and laid his cane across his lap. 

Tommy huffed, trying to ignore the creeping warmth building in his stomach as his holly sweetened uncontrollably. The cigarette wasn’t working as well as he hoped. 

“Right, well,” Alfie scratched at his eye, “The thing is, I’ve had some thoughts, haven’t I?” He started, blinking up at the ceiling and back to Tommy. Bonfire spread through the room again as Alfie leaned forward and an agitated energy seemed to grab ahold of him. 

Tommy nodded, his head heavy on his shoulders, threatening to float away with every word Alfie said. 

“Particularly on the nature of birds.” Alfie said, running a palm over his trousers. 

“Birds.” Tommy asked, one eyebrow raising curiously. 

“Yeah, birds. Flying about and singing, all that stuff.” He went on, hands rising and falling as though they were the birds he spoke of, if they were even talking about birds. He was never sure which of Alfie’s metaphors were pointed comments or his own confusion.

He might be trying to discuss Tommy’s protection, and referring to his soldiers as birds, or he might be discussing birds in terms of their love for shiny things like money, and the dangers of such addictions, in an attempt to force Tommy to go for an even lower price than 10%. For all Tommy knew, he may have seen a bird outside before their meeting and just wanted to talk about it. 

He hadn’t mentioned anything about Tommy’s mortifying behavior at their last meeting, or his being an omega, or his and Arthur’s recent meetings. 

Though Tommy couldn’t say he minded not having to endure more questions on his gender. 

“That is why, in my opinion, songbirds should be allowed to perform solo. Only seems fair.” 

There had to be a point to this. 

Maybe he didn’t like Arthur, or he felt he should meet with Tommy, one boss to another. Something was nagging at Tommy though, that if Alfie was truly angry about Arthur, he’d have mentioned it by now. 

“Just incase the other birds don’t know the notes?” Tommy asked, unable to keep a small smile from his face as he leaned forward.

“Right,” Alfie nodded, running a hand over his hair. A light pink flush peeked from behind his beard as he smiled and deeper bonfire billowed out from him. 

“Noted.” Tommy said, flicking his dead cigarette away and moved to stand. His knees wavered though, forcing him to drop a hand to the table and brace himself for a second. 

Alfie watched patiently as Tommy gathered himself and rounded the desk, trying desperately to think of anything other than the warm scent around him. Of how strong Alfie’s arms looked, and how broad in the shoulders he was. He could probably hold Tommy up against the wall, he looked strong enough-

He shuddered as a slick feeling dripped down his thighs and the image of Alfie’s hands around his waist sank low in him. 

Holly bloomed again, sweetening and turning more encouraging. He froze and glanced over at Alfie, nervously catching his pupil dark eyes. 

His nose was twitching as he scented the air. 

Comforting scents were soaking into Tommy’s skin, slowing him until he could hardly hold himself up. He reached outward, grasping weakly at Alfie’s coat collar. 

His heart began pounding as Alfie’s hands slid to his waist, trailing electricity down his sides as he guided him slowly closer. Strong hands tugged the coat free from his grasp as he pulled Tommy gently against his front.

“Holly,” Alfie hummed, warm breath light against Tommy’s neck. “You smell like holly.” 

Tommy nodded, his eyes sliding shut as he nosed at his neck. If he could stay here, in this spot forever, life would be perfect. Alfie’s body around him, safe and warm. 

“Out we come then, eh?” Alfie asked, slowly pulling himself away. A quiet noise escaped Tommy’s lips. He would never admit, though it whispered impossibly loudly through his quiet office. 

Bonfire burned hot for a moment before sulking again as Alfie threaded a hand through Tommy’s and he pushed firmly him away. 

“Never really been at a loss for words before, have I?” He asked, looking into Tommy’s eyes. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

Tommy hummed, trying and failing to fall into Alfie’s arms again.

“No, now, if you do that again, I’m not going to leave, now am I? And you’re secretary wouldn’t like that.” Alfie started, firm hands keeping Tommy upright. “So I’m going to sit you right back into your chair, and tonight, I’ll call you. And we’ll talk about this, eh?” He finished, gently guiding Tommy back into his seat. 

Tommy nodded, his eyelids dropping heavily.

“Alright, I’ll call in a few hours, you just sit tight, finish whatever it is you need to, eh?” Alfie said, grabbing his coat and opening the door. “I’ll call in a few hours.” He repeated before sliding out and shutting the door. 

His eyes slid shut again, struggling to stay open against the warm office. Alfie would call later, and maybe he’d come over again? 

He wanted him to come over again, now. 

Right now. 

He was fucked, wasn’t he?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment below! They keep me writing! ❤️


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